


No Time for Wishful Thinking

by AngelWithAStory



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Drabble, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Open Relationships, Polyamory Negotiations, Public Display of Affection, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 07:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAStory/pseuds/AngelWithAStory
Summary: Percy knew Whitestone very well. That much was always going to be obvious - which was why it was a tad frustrating that Percy couldn’t seem to find the one person he was looking for.EPISODE 99 SPOILERS





	No Time for Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> okay so thanks to that episode now everyone is talking about darrolo and I'm sat over here with my 4/6 fics trying to give the people what they want. also this is my 200th fic so yay that!!
> 
> also @sam riegal 1) who gave you the right to give us the adorable cream puff that Taryon Darrington then try and take him away like who??????? gave you the right??????? 2) who gave you the right to play with all our emotions. i get wanting to go back to a past character but not like this sam. not like this 3) i am sorely upset about Tary admitting that he loved Percy to his _father_ only to then leave and go live with his shitty family (not his mother she's lush) like how dare you
> 
> i am so very tired and upset and i don't think i've laughed that hard at that episode in months so here's to the science bros, how i wish things had been different. 
> 
> title is from Heaven in Hiding by Halsey bc HFK came out and i stayed up until midnight to listen to it as soon as possible

Percy knew Whitestone very well. Cassandra too. That much was always going to be obvious - even the seedy underside (or what was slowly beginning to fester and regrow of it) was obvious to the children of the de Rolo family that had governed the place for generations. 

Cassandra could be dropped blindfolded at any point in the city and safely find her way back towards the castle, or the Sun Tree, or to that one tavern that would never expect someone of her status to walk in through the door. 

Percy made it a point to know the city that he had sacrificed so much for. He liked to know the people as well; the ones he saved, the ones he fought for, the ones he had died to save. 

Which was why it was a tad frustrating that Percy couldn’t seem to find the one person he was looking for. 

He tried Vex’s house first in the newly finished room that would only break her heart. In a few days the door would be locked and not touched. In a few weeks, the hurt would be too much and she would either destroy it or cover all the evidence it existed. In a few months the hurt would only be a gentle simmer and they would learn to move on. 

They did it once, they could do it again. 

No one answered the knock on the door. Or the second knock. Or the third. 

Whitestone was quiet in the later hours. Beautiful, but quiet. When the excitement of Vox Machina died down, the only sounds were mothers singing to children heard from open windows, or men singing drunken ditties flowing from tavern doors. Percy hummed along to an old folk song as he wandered down the streets, thinking about where to look next. 

The castle? Possibly, but Scanlan was up there now and Percy didn’t want to see him. Not now. Maybe not ever. 

The inn? Definitely not. Too high a chance that he would run into Lionel or Scanlan. 

Percy blinked and realised where his feet had taken him. 

Everything about the Sun Tree was beautiful to Percy and always would be. The way the sunlight would stream through the leaves in the summer. The decorations strung from it for Winters Crest. The children that would play beneath it. The golden flowers that littered the ground around it, out of the shade of the leaves. 

Even the golden man standing beneath it, looking at the small iron plaque that was installed at the base of the trunk. 

Percy took several, long and deliberate steps and stopped beside the man. He knew the inscription. He didn’t need to read it again. 

“Whitestone is quite beautiful at night, isn’t it?” Percy said softly, looking down the street opposite. A man and a woman left a building, arms linked and laughter following them like perfume. 

“It’s lovely.” Tary agreed, not looking up. “Whose names were they?” He asked softly. 

“All the people who lost their lives in the Reclaiming of Whitestone.” Percy spoke easily but his hands clenched as he remembered the feeling of the demon inside his chest and the smoke swirling around him. “Everyone who fell to the Briarwoods. We remember them, and we honour them.” 

“You really do love this city.” Tary said. It was an observation that held deeper understand than the words let on. 

“I feel a duty towards it. I want to protect it, and see it grow into something better than what it was.” Percy said. He turned ever so slightly and looked up at Tary’s face. “You are a lot alike in that regards.”

Percy dropped his eyes so Tary could take the compliment in private. Some small, dark part of him told him that this was cruel. That his actions were mean now he knew how Tary felt. But had he really changed all that much? How were his actions different now than they were when they’d met?

Had they always been like this and Percy had been too stupid to notice? Typical. 

“That is how I feel about Wildmount, and my family.” Tary said, quietly, privately. “I want it to grow into something better than what my father made it.”

The silence stretched between them: tense; awkward; charged with something neither of them wanted to admit. 

“I meant what I said in the tavern.” Percy said, quietly, earnestly. “I am honestly flattered. I wish you’d told me earlier.”

“What good would that have done?” Tary asked, a hitch in his voice that betrayed him more than anything else could have. 

“Well, for starters it would have given us more time to negotiate terms.” Percy spoke with the same tone that he would have spoken of a business deal. 

“I don’t understand.” Tary’s hands were shaking, just a little, just enough to show. 

“Vex and I have always had certain terms to our agreement that the others aren’t privy to.” Percy said, reading all the names on the plaque. Over and over and over until they burned in his memory. “While we know that we love each other, we are not devoted. When I am unavailable to her, Vex is free to find a companion who is, and vice versa. It’s an arrangement that works for us. Yes, we love and are devoted to each other, but we also understand that we both have limitations and as long as we stick to the terms of our negotiation, then no harm is done.” 

“You both are happy like this?” Tary was frowning now, openly disbelieving. 

“Very happy. And as it happens, Vex is very fond of you, so negotiations were surprisingly easy.” Percy turned to watch Tary’s expression and had to smile at the faint blush that was just barely visible in the low light of the lamps. 

“I don’t think I follow.” Tary said. 

“Circumstances have changed, Taryon, if you so wish them to be.” Percy said. 

He took a chance and took a half-step forwards. The armour between them were almost touching. Tary’s breath tickled Percy’s skin. His hands twitched, wanting to touch to hold to pull to push. But his hands stayed by his side, waiting for permission that might never come. 

“You’re… not joking.” Tary’s gaze was critical, scanning Percy’s face for any kind of deception. 

“I very rarely joke in this manner, Tary. And I very rarely joke about  _ you _ , specifically.” Percy said. 

He must have passed whatever test Taryon had set for him. Tary barely moved; he tilted his head down ever so slightly, his exhale ghosting across Percy’s lips. 

“I need to hear it, Tary.” Percy said, keeping obediently still. He knew what permission meant and he knew to wait. Especially like this. Especially with everything that had happened. 

“ _ Yes _ .” A whisper. A prayer. A gasp. 

Percy’s hand very gently grabbed the edges of Tary’s armour and he moved them, carefully, deliberately. Tary’s back brushed up against the trunk of the Sun Tree. 

Percy was a tinker, a maker, a  _ creator _ . His fingers were gentle and calloused as he brushed Tary’s hair out of his eyes and gripped his neck. His hand knew how much pressure to add, to take away, as he gripped Tary’s hip, laying himself against the other man. 

Then he kissed Tary. 

Slowly, softly, carefully, with the same care he gave his creations, with the same love he gave his sketchbook. 

His fingertips brushed against Tary’s scalp, curling and pulling the hair. He felt Tary keen underneath him, pushing their bodies closer, scrabbling for purchase against Percy’s coat, running his hands through the shock of white hair. 

Every touch was electric. Every gasp was a resurgence. Every murmured word was a prayer. 

Still, Tary’s touch felt hesitant. Like this was somehow a dream that he would wake up from. 

Percy pushed him harder against the tree, breaking the kiss and gently brushing Tary’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. Tary’s face was flushed and his eyes were bright and  _ alive _ . 

“I would have you here, against this tree if you would let me.” Percy murmured, leaning in and pressing kisses against the exposed surface of Tary’s neck. He felt Tary’s breath hitch and smiled as he kissed Tary’s chin, his cheek, his nose, his lips, settling into a comfortable rhythm of touch and taste and soft, swallowed sounds. 

“My room would be more comfortable.” Tary whispered, breathless but with more heat than the fiercest argument. Percy felt something stir in his stomach and he growled into the kiss. 

“Too far away.” He said, already fiddling with the buckles. But he stopped himself. “I want you here, and now, as you are.”

Tary’s fingers dipped underneath Percy’s shirt, brushing the waistband of his trousers, not daring to go further than that. Too inexperienced, too afraid, too shy. 

“You make a compelling case,” Tary said, trying to ignore his body’s reaction to Percival’s lips brushing against the shell of his ear and his teeth touching his earlobe, just for a moment. Just long enough for that spark to catch. “However, I refuse to have sex with you so blatantly in a public space.” 

“Alright then.” Percy said, pulling away just enough to look Tary in the eye. “Your room or mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> swing by my tumblr at [queenmoggy](http://queenmoggy.tumblr.com/) if you want to know the girl behind the darrolo


End file.
